


Enemy of My Enemy

by ILoveTeamFortressToo, tiny-freakin-head (Hobbitfing)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, Humour, Mann vs. Machine, Robots, Some blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-25 01:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveTeamFortressToo/pseuds/ILoveTeamFortressToo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/tiny-freakin-head
Summary: As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. The RED and BLU teams don't agree, even with robots at their doorstep. Especially the BLU Spy and RED Sniper, who hold a special grudge against each other. What will it take for them to set their differences aside? What will it take for them to trust each other?





	1. Chapter 1

_Well, that was a mistake,_ BLU Spy thought muzzily as he tried to pull himself up onto his knees. His ears still rang from the blast as dust settled down around him.

A sharp pain in his side made Spy hiss and glance down.

_Oh. Oh dear._

A huge splinter of wood. Of course it was wood, that's what they got for fighting robots while surrounded by barns

A huge splinter of wood. Sticking out of his ribs. He touched the skin under it with shaking, nerveless hands. His blue gloves came away stained purple.

_Oh dear._

Spy slowly pulled himself free of the wreckage, pushing aside planks and bricks and roof tiles. He was lucky in a way, it could have been so much worse. Or maybe a nastier injury would have been better. At least he would have died quicker that way.

He dragged himself further back into the building, where a corner of it still stood. As he moved, he began to cough. It got worse and worse until he was forced to stop and curl up on his front, coughing onto the floorboards. Spy tasted copper and glanced down. The floor was speckled in blood and spit. That was probably worthy of another _oh dear,_ but by now he felt resigned.

Spy made it to the wall. His intentions had been to lean against it until he could pull himself together enough to find help. Instead he found himself sliding down it with a groan. He curled up on his side on the floor, staring dully at the shard of wood sticking out of his side.

It had been a mistake. It had been his own fault. He'd seen the robot carrying the bomb and rushed to find his teammates, but found only REDs instead. They were supposed to be working together, but years of murder and hatred and all-consuming grudges could not be forgotten so easily. He'd presumed the REDs would try and shoot him on sight. He hadn't stopped to warn them.

And now... and now... how much of the site was even left? How many had survived the blast? Spy suspected he'd accidentally ended up the closest when the bomb went off, but he had no idea how widespread or how localised the blast had been. Maybe he was the only one injured. Or maybe everyone, RED or BLU was dead.

Maybe respawn had been hit.

This time, he could finally be dying for real, all alone at the back of a dusty old barn. What a way to go.

 

At the sight of the BLU Spy running at top speed, the RED team had immediately gone on alert. Sniper hadn’t been as removed from the immediate battlefield as he would have liked, only up in a hayloft, easily able to hear and see the metal soldiers hunting them down. He’d given a shout when he saw the bomb, but it seemed like it had been too late.

The barn he was in had half-collapsed in the explosion and getting down was treacherous. Still, he managed with only a few minor scratches and scrapes, grateful that he was wearing his glove; it made it easier to hold onto splintering wooden beams as he worked his way to the ground.

When he got to the site of the blast, he couldn’t see anyone at first. Nobody from RED was there. He could only hope that meant they had respawned, or moved on before there was another attack. Something red caught his eye and he turned, but it was only a spray of blood. It was easy enough to follow the tracks; pointy shoes and a steady drip of blood. That’d be a spy then. Probably the damn BLU who hadn’t bothered to shout anything or warn anyone. Not that Sniper could judge him too harshly. Their truce was an uneasy one.

He rounded the corner and the sound of a man coughing interrupted his tracking. Following the hoarse, painful sound into another wooden structure, Sniper found himself standing in front of a rather pathetic looking Spy. The man was curled up on his side, the floor around him spattered with blood.

For a moment all he could do was look, unsure how he should act. They weren’t teammates. They’d killed each other enough times and certainly taken their rivalry to more personal levels than most of the others had. Sniper still had a scar on his cheek from the BLU Spy, but he couldn’t feel vengeful with this thin little man bleeding through his torn suit onto rotten wood and old hay.

 

Footsteps. Footsteps heading his way. Someone come to save him.

Then the all-too familiar outline of a lanky man in a wide-brimmed hat came into sight. Spy held his breath, frozen still. Curled up on the floor. Bleeding. Dying. Vulnerable. Utterly at the RED's mercy.

He tried to pull himself upright, teeth bared into a snarl. He was like an injured cat chased into a dead end,showing its fangs one last time as the huge dog that had it cornered. And he had about as much chance of fighting back.

Spy tipped his head back, jutting his chin out defiantly. He couldn't stop the flicker of fear in his eyes though.

What was the Sniper going to do? Spy could pray for a quick, merciful death, but he doubted he would get one.

The Sniper would draw it out. Impossibly neat cut after cut with that huge knife of his. So heavy, so unwieldy, so expertly handled. The Sniper would probably chop off his fingers one by one, enjoying every scream. Or maybe he'd skin him alive. Turn his hide to leather.

Spy wouldn't put anything past that man.

Even while he was just standing there, looking torn and uncertain.

 

That hadn’t been the response Sniper had expected. Spy was always so carefully groomed, so snarky and sharp-tongued. Watching him scrabble on the ground like an animal in a trap, his even teeth bared, well… it would have been threatening if it hadn’t looked a little ridiculous.

Sniper knelt, unsheathing his kukri and starting to cut the man’s suit jacket and shirt away from the large splinter of wood skewering him. Wouldn’t do to have it tangle and get in the way when he pulled it out. If he could. It looked nasty and it’d hurt like hell to come out. Once he had a tear going in the fabric he pulled it apart with a loud ripping sound.

 

There was nothing he could do. Nothingnothingnothingnothing- and now the Sniper was right next to him, that huge knife unsheathed and-

Spy needed to cough. He desperately needed to cough, he could feel the blood pooling in his lungs. He needed to cough. But he forced himself to say perfectly still.

The Sniper wasn't cutting him. Yet. But all it would take was one slip, one sideways movement, one cough.

What was the Sniper even doing? Something to do with the ragged piece of wood sticking out of him. What was he going to do, grab hold of it and tear it out? Shove it deeper? Play with it, easing it this way and that until Spy cried?

Then he heard a ripping noise.

Oh god. Oh god.

The Sniper was tearing his clothes off.

No no no.

He'd thought the Sniper capable of many terrible things, but not this...

Ignoring the looming kukri, Spy grabbed hold of Sniper's wrist.

'Get off me! Get off! I'll-' he broke off as he began to cough, turning his head away so the Sniper couldn't see. Not to hide the fact he was coughing up flecks of blood, that must be obvious, but for dignity's sake.

 

Sniper saw the sheer panic in the other man’s face and suddenly realized what Spy was thinking. He let Spy hold his wrist, not struggling against him.

'It’s alright, mate, I just want to help,' he lowered his voice, nervous of more robots hearing them. 'I’m not gonna hurt you.'

He pulled a bandana out of his pocket, offering it to Spy to wipe his mouth. If he was bleeding from his mouth… well hopefully he’d just scratched up his throat and his lungs were alright. Sniper wasn’t sure if he could do anything to help Spy if he were that injured.

 

Spy gripped Sniper's wrist as hard as he could.

The Sniper wasn't going to hurt him?

Wanted to help?

He didn't believe it for a second. Spy had been fighting the RED Sniper for years. They were worst enemies. Neither would ever help the other! Spy certainly wouldn't help the Sniper if he'd found him like this...would he?

Spy eyed Sniper warily as he pulled a handkerchief- no, a bandana, out of his pocket. Spy hesitated when it was offered to him. What was this about? Where was the trap?

Spy coughed again, his breathing raspy and unsteady. More blood on his chin. Wonderful. He let go of the Sniper's wrist and took the bandana off him. As he raised it to his face, his fingers scraped across stubble.

Shit. How much damage had his mask taken? In his peripheral vision Spy could see a tuft of dark, blood-spiked hair sticking out from what was likely a tear just above his eyebrow, and it appeared that the material between the holes for his eyes and mouth was nearly torn away on the left side.

Even with the pain in his side and the black spots that bloomed in front of his eyes every time he coughed, it was the enemy Sniper seeing his face that really bothered Spy.

Horrible injuries and death happened to him every day. Having so much of his face and torso exposed to a RED did not.

 

Spy’s grip on his wrist became painful and Sniper winced a little. Finally Spy released him as he began coughing up more blood, dabbing his face. He seemed surprised to find his mask partially missing. It had barely registered to Sniper. He’d seen little bits of Spy’s hair through a torn mask before, he knew it was dark, nearly black.

'Do you know if there’s a medikit nearby?' Sniper wasn’t terribly familiar with this area, he was used to being up, away from the main fight. As he asked, he very gently turned Spy so he could see where the splinter came out the back out. If Sniper was going to pull that out, they would need a medikit immediately or Spy would bleed to death. If he could even get it all out at once.

Spy seemed unfocused, the bandana held limply in his hand, blood dribbling from his mouth and nose. A thread of fear coursed through Sniper. He had to act quick. Respawn was getting less and less likely every time they died. One explosion would mean permanent death instead of waking up again, healed and energized. Spy may be a pain in the ass but they needed all the allies they could get right now.

'Medikit?' he repeated, louder, taking Spy gently by the shoulders.

 

Medikit? Well there was one... there was one... God his heart was beating so fast. He wasn't even doing anything, just lying on a floor. Yet he could feel it beating against his ribs like a panicked bird.

Medikit. Focus. Where was a medikit?

Spy raised his head, the world tilting this way and that sickeningly. His head was heavy. So heavy.

Medikit. Medic had shown them where he'd stored them before the battle, hadn't he? He hadn't been paying proper attention because Scout had been mouthing off about something. He'd been arguing when he should have been listening. Well, if he didn't know, time to use logic. Where would they likely be?

Spy tried to think. It was like his thoughts were water escaping through a sieve; he couldn't hold onto them. Couldn't pull them together.

Medikit...

'Cabinet,' Spy rasped, remembering now where he'd glimpsed one earlier in the battle. 'In the workshop next to this. To the right,' The side that hadn't taken as much damage in the explosion. He hoped.

 

Sniper considered letting Spy just slump against the dirty barn floor, but instead bent down and scooped him up as carefully as he could. He held the man under his knees and back, putting one of Spy’s arms over his shoulders. It was bound to be a little painful, but this barn was hardly hiding anything. Heading out of the half-destroyed barn with a careful look back and forth for robots or teammates, Sniper left quietly. He saw nothing and no one. He left a bloody handprint on the workshop door as he pushed his way in. This building had taken a little scorching but it was in far better shape than the barn.

 

Spy was not expecting to be picked up today. By anybody. Let alone the enemy Sniper. Frankly, it was embarrassing. Spy was going to argue against the whole thing but then he found himself too busy trying not to faint to say anything.

He wasn't entirely sure he was successful because the next thing Spy knew, he was on his side on top of a counter in a different room entirely. The workshop. He reached out a gloved hand and tapped his fingers against the side of a huge rusty metal vice attached to the edge of the counter. Spy wasn't sure why he did that. It just seemed like a good idea to check that the world was still real. Everything seemed to hazy and distant, even the sounds of fighting going on outside. What were they fighting for again? Spy couldn't remember.

Putting Spy down on the counter gingerly, suddenly realizing there was a large bloodstain on his abdomen where Spy had rested against him, Sniper rifled through cabinets until he found a medikit, huffing out a sigh of relief. 'I’m gonna get this out, then we’ll take care of you, alright?'

Sniper grabbed the splinter from both sides and pushed it through carefully back the way it had come. Luckily Spy’s body hadn’t really had time to seal it in and he bled freely.

The Sniper said something. It took a while for Spy's brain to translate the sounds into information. Too long for him to be able to prepare himself. To brace. It was probably a good thing, if he'd tensed up, it would have only made pulling out the splinter all that much harder.

The pain was excruciating.

A thin, cracked cry escaped him.

Spy's hand flew to Sniper's wrist again, holding on to him as though it was the only thing keeping him from falling down a deep ravine.

His eyebrows pinched as he heard the wet, gristly sucking sound of the splinter being pulled from his body.

Spy stared at the Sniper without really seeing him, his eyes huge and round and filled with pain.

Then he felt the splinter scrape past bone. He let out an embarrassing whine, a high, raspy little noise that he wasn't even aware of making.

His eyes rolled back. His body slumped back onto the bloody, dusty counter, and everything was dark.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Gritting his teeth, Sniper finally pulled the splinter free and dropped it to the workshop floor. He was happy not to touch the bloody thing anymore. Spy had made a few pained squeaks and grabbed at him until the splinter was finally out. He seemed to be out cold now, his grip weak. Sniper popped open the medikit, taking out the usual salves and syringes and doing his best to patch up his enemy-turned-ally.

The injection worked a lot like the medigun fumes did, knitting people back together like torn cloth. It was always sickening to watch and Sniper turned his eyes to Spy’s face as his side grew whole and unscarred muscle and skin regrew. He was still covered in blood and his mask was torn, but there was colour in Spy's cheeks now and the tension he’d been holding in his muscles seemed to melt off him.

Sniper took a slow breath. He was no good at this, taking care of other people. He was self-sufficient. He often didn’t even go to Medic when he needed to, preferring to take care of himself.

He hadn’t even realized it until the sound was gone, but Spy’s breathing had gone from a bloody rasp to clear, even, breaths. Whatever damage had been done to Spy’s lungs had been cleared up. Unfortunately, the damage Sniper had done to his shirt and jacket was still there. Tugging off his red shirt, Sniper pulled Spy’s arms through the sleeves carefully before laying him back down. Sniper still had his undershirt on, that was enough. Still, without the red of his shirt he felt oddly naked.

 

Spy returned to the world in stops and starts. The first time, just after the injection, the pain of the wound and the rapidly repairing muscles, organs and skin sent him back under again.

The second time, consciousness stuck. He became aware of sounds first. A soft rustle nearby, a distant explosion. Then feeling returned. His lungs. He could breathe again. The pain was gone. The pain was gone. It was wonderful beyond relief to be free of it.

Spy took a deep breath as he opened his eyes, which set off another coughing fit. No dragging, stabbing pain this time though. Just a few final flecks of the blood caught in the back of his throat.

Spy could see something red. Of all the BLUs, he was the one who would be the least disturbed to find himself in red. He needed it for his disguises after all.

The odd bit though was how the shirt didn't fit. And it smelled wrong too, like sweat and gunpowder and leather. His disguises were never like that.

He looked up and found the RED Sniper watching him.

Oh. Well that explained it.

He was wearing the RED Sniper's shirt.

Somehow that made it very difficult to look him in the eye. Spy's gaze fell on the long, bloody splinter of wood discarded on the ground.

'How about we never do that again?' he asked. It was supposed to come out cold and aloof. Instead Spy just sounded lost and disorientated, even to himself.

 

Sniper cracked a crooked, toothy grin and nodded. 'Sounds good to me,' he agreed.

He’d been in the middle of debating with himself whether or not he ought to remove Spy’s mask. Not only was he curious about what lay underneath, but the thing was torn and stuck to Spy’s skin with blood. It looked uncomfortable as all hell. He hoped he didn’t look as guilty as he felt for even considering it. Spy must wear it for a reason. Sniper could understand hiding. Even if they had never liked each other, even if he hated that damn scar on his cheek, they were just mercenaries. Spy took things too far, but he had been hired to be a pain in the ass, same as Sniper.

 

Though the pain was gone and he could breath freely, Spy felt uncomfortably... sticky. Or at least, too much was currently sticking to him with thick, tacky blood, to be comfortable. He peeled the tattered remains of his shirt and jacket free of his side but didn't know what to do next. If he let go, they'd get stuck to him again. In order to get it off, he'd have to take the Sniper's shirt off. But at some point in time that would leave him topless in front of the Sniper.

For most of his life, this would have been nothing significant. It was just that he'd been fighting this war so long now, the identity of 'Spy' had overwritten the man beneath. Spies hide themselves. That's what they do. No one had seen more than what little of his face the mask allowed them to see, and the occasional glimpses of his wrists. Everything else was hidden away, come rain or shine.

But it was ridiculous. Of course he could be shirtless in front of someone. Of course he could. Really he could. He had nothing to hide.

It was just that maybe he smoked a little too often. And maybe that suppressed his appetite a little too much. And maybe he skipped meals just once too often. And maybe he was painfully aware that without the suit he wouldn't be that sleek Spy dressed in neatly-cut blue, he'd just be a man. A skinny, underweight Frenchman. Nothing mysterious or intimidating about him at all.

Nope, it was no good, the shirt needed to come off. Time to sit up properly and calmly take it off as though he was the most confident man in the world.

He tried. The minute Spy got halfway up, the world began to swim in front of his eyes again. He crumpled back down with an angry little noise.

Ah yes. The blood loss. He'd forgotten about that one.

If the Sniper had used a Medikit injection (which he must have done, else Spy wouldn't be here right now), that would have healed his wounds and boosted his production of blood cells. It was just that those injections weren't as strong as a proper medigun beam, so they couldn't do the second bit nearly as well.

This was awful. And pathetic. He was fine now (in theory) but too weak to even take a damn shirt off. In front of the enemy Sniper.

Today was not Spy's day.

 

'Just sit,' Sniper told him, heading to the workshop’s sawdust-covered industrial sink and turning the taps to see if they worked.

Blessedly, clear, clean water came out and Sniper set about finding something for them to drink out of. He finally found a couple cracked mugs and filled them both after giving them a good rinse. The water was warm, but it was better than nothing. While he was at it, he wet his bandana too.

Spy was different like this. It was hard to see him as the same pain-in-the-ass enemy that he usually was. He was so thin, so… human. Usually it looked as though nothing bothered him, but now he was a mess.

He set the mugs on the counter so Spy could choose his own, offering him the bandana to wipe the blood off his face and side. His own undershirt was stuck to his chest with Spy’s blood but there was no way he was washing his bloody shirt and wearing something cold and wet in the middle of a battlefield, even if they did seem safe for the moment.

 

Spy levered himself up into a sitting position. He managed to move slowly enough that it didn't set off the dizziness again, but he still felt sick. And thirsty. His body was horribly dehydrated after losing all that blood.

He watched the Sniper like a hawk as the RED seemed to read his mind and turned a tap on experimentally. Spy intended to make a fuss about the state of the mugs, but then Sniper cleaned them out thoroughly as though, once again, he'd read Spy's mind.

'Thank you,' Spy said as Sniper handed him the bandana. It was a simple, common phrase. Two words, two syllables. But Spy struggled with it all the same. It was his pride, not the words themselves, that was the issue here. He was used to working alone. He was used to fighting with the Sniper. Used to killing him. Mocking him. This sudden change had pulled the metaphorical rug out from under Spy's feet and now he had no idea where to stand.

He picked up one of the mugs and drained it before turning away to carefully pat at his face with the bandana. He winced as the damp fabric brushed over little abrasions in his skin from the blast. The injection had gone into healing his major wounds, not the scratches that remained.

God he was a mess.

'No worries,' Sniper waited until Spy had chosen his own mug, then downed the water in the remaining mug. He tugged his hat down over his eyes and gave Spy a little space, ignoring the Frenchman, letting him take his time fixing himself up. He looked like hell.

 

Spy poked at his balaclava, feeling the damage. It felt very tight across his nose and cheeks as the small amount of the material left strained to stay in place. A couple of strands gave way at his touch. Spy very much suspected the rest were going to snap soon. He should get away from the Sniper before that happened.

Except, he knew he wouldn't be able too. He was too tired, too weak.

'Want to cut the rest of that off?' Sniper offered, unable to resist after he saw some of the mask rip under Spy’s hands.

 

Cut it off? Cut his mask off? What the hell was the Sniper thinking? How dare he?

Then a rebellious little part of Spy, one that was still lightheaded from blood loss and reeling at all that had happened, asked, 'why not?'

Why not? What did it matter? What did any of it matter?

Was he scared of someone seeing his face?

Yes.

Yes he was.

Spy was scared enough of anyone seeing him without some of his clothes on, let alone his mask. But he was going to take the shirt off in a moment anyway. So why not? Why not?

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the idea. His breathing hitched.

What did it matter?

The world had been turned upside down already. They were fighting robots for Christ’s sake! And the RED Sniper had helped him, the BLU Spy. It was the end of the world. The end of his world. The end of the Spy.

He felt dizzy again, but a strange, half-mad grin spread across his face.

'Why not?' he asked. Then he laughed, a tight, pained sound that was barely a laugh at all.

'Why not cut it all off?'

 

'It doesn’t hide the shape of your face or anything,' Sniper agreed, pulling out his kukri. He moved carefully, giving Spy space and time to move away. Bit by bit, he cut off the mask, revealing the man’s thin, blood-stained face. Spy was pale, with a bit of a tan where the mask didn’t cover his skin. He was stubbly and unshaven, his hair a bit wild from being under a mask.

'There, that’ll feel better,' he said softly.

 

Spy had expected Sniper to give him the knife, not for the Sniper to start cutting the mask away himself.

Spy sobered up immediately, the giddy, heady feeling from before disappearing as he sat perfectly still. The Sniper didn't crowd him, and gave him the chance to move away, but Spy didn't. Better to let the Sniper remove his mask than to make a fuss and end up getting cut.

He intended taking his mask off to be... something. Something important. Spy tried to work out what as a clean slice freed the top of his neck.

He'd intended to do it himself as some kind of defiant act. A show of strength. Proof that he didn't care about exposing his face to the enemy.

But instead the Sniper had taken Spy's autonomy away from him and was cutting the mask off for him. Slice-by-slice, the enemy Sniper was exposing him. Except that clearly wasn't the Sniper's intent. Every movement was so careful, so precise. Delicate.

Spy didn't know how to react. He'd always used offense as the first line of defense. He'd taunt people, wind them up, mock them, act prickly and sarcastic and never have a nice word to say to anyone. But it really all was just a defense mechanism. And in the face of such sincere care from a man who should hate him...Spy felt as though his real mask wasn't the only one the Sniper had cut away.

When it was done, Spy ran a nervous hand through his hair, leaving a mess of tousled waves in his wake.

No, this really wasn't the proud, defiant moment he'd intended. He couldn't even look at the Sniper.

'Thank you,' he said again, his voice small. A flicker of anger licked at his insides. Not at the Sniper but at himself. This was pathetic. He forced himself to raise his head, forced himself to look the Sniper's way.

'Yeah,' Sniper nodded to him, watching Spy for a moment. He’d never expected to see him like this; vulnerable, thin, human.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The continuous clanging of the robotic soldiers came nearer, putting Sniper instantly on the alert. Would Spy disappear if they came too close? Where could they go? There was only the one exit in the workshop, as far as he knew. Sniper grabbed his rifle from where she was slung over his shoulder, silently, slowly. He brought her up to his shoulder and braced, waiting.

The door was closed, but there were a few dots of blood trailing from the destroyed barn to here. Would that be enough of a track for a machine to find them? It would have been enough for Sniper on the hunt for a foe, but the metal men walked right past the door and kept going.

Slowly, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, lowering his rifle. 'We should find somewhere safer,' he whispered, once he was sure the bots were gone.

Spy tensed when he heard the clank-clank-clank of mechanical feet nearby, fingers automatically reaching for his wrist. He felt cracked glass shift under his gloves and glanced down. It appeared his invisiwatch had been damaged in the explosion. Spy had no idea if it would still work. At least he still had his – Spy's fingers brushed against his chest, over the cotton of Sniper's red shirt. No, he didn't have his jacket anymore, that had been left behind in the last building. That meant no back-up watch, no knife, no disguise kit. No gun either. Spy still had its holster but he'd been holding his Ambassador when the explosion caught him. It was somewhere under all that rubble in the barn.

Had the Sniper done that on purpose? Stripped him of all his weapons, carried him away from them to leave him vulnerable? And now Spy was sitting here, propped up against the metal vice, maskless and half-shirtless. Was Sniper's act of kindness just that, an act?

And when Sniper said 'somewhere safer,' did he mean 'somewhere more secluded, somewhere where no one will hear you scream'?

Spy could believe that easily. But he didn't want to. He was so tired. He wanted to take a break from being pessimistic and paranoid all the time. It was a hard thing for a Spy to do though.

Spy licked his chapped lips and tasted copper. 'The building behind this has two storeys. Top one's a grain store. We should be safe in for a while. And you could snipe from up there easily while staying out of sight if you needed to.' Spy knew because he'd given the building a second glance earlier, instinctively looking out for the signs that the RED Sniper might be up there. He'd got a feel for the best sniping spots over the years.

 

'Can you walk?' Sniper asked, looking Spy over. He certainly looked better than earlier, but Sniper knew how weak a wound like that could leave a person, even after using a medikit.

Spy still looked thin and pale, almost feverish. He seemed too tired to even be terribly suspicious, which Sniper had to say he was relieved about. It was hard enough taking care of a man who had stabbed him in the back countless times, without him being skittish and fearful.

 

Spy frowned, giving it some thought. 'Possibly,' he replied. 'Give me a moment.'

He decided to do a small preliminary test. If he could manage to take his tattered shirt off by himself, then maybe he would be up for trying to walk. He forced himself to sit up properly and pulled off the Sniper's shirt easily. The movement left him feeling a tiny bit dizzy, but nothing compared to what it would have done a couple of minutes ago. It took him three attempts to undo the button that the Sniper had missed when cutting the shirt away from the wound. Spy's fingers kept fumbling over it, feeling weak and shaky. He managed in the end and peeled the shirt free. He dropped the ragged, bloody thing on the floor with contempt. Just the remains of yet another ruined suit. It was just a good thing that BLU always paid for the replacements, or it would have been very upsetting.

Both shirts off, Spy was immediately aware of how cold he was. For a moment he couldn't work out why. As usual they were practically fighting in a desert, so it was as hot out as ever. Then he remembered. Ah, yes, severe blood loss.

Spy shivered. Being underweight didn't help either. He dragged the RED shirt back on as quickly as he could, feeling oddly guilty about the fact that he didn't feel very guilty for doing so. If Soldier could see him now, Spy would be a dead man.

Right, first test passed. Now for the second. Spy pushed himself off the edge of the counter, and holding onto the vice for stability, experimentally tried out the whole 'standing up' thing. He swayed slightly, head spinning. This was ridiculous.

'Yes, I'm sure I can,' Spy answered in the end. His reply came out sounding a little short tempered and snappy, but it was himself he was irritated with, not the Sniper.

 

Sniper watched Spy undress for a moment, then turned his back on the other man to give him some semblance of privacy. It was difficult though; the spot between his shoulder blades itched with Spy behind him and he struggled to keep his eyes and ears focused on the battle going on not too far away, instead of on the injured man behind him.

Spy managed to get the remains of his shirt off and pull Sniper’s class shirt back on. When Sniper heard Spy’s shoes hit the floor he turned, taking his enemy’s elbow carefully.

'We don’t have to go far,' Sniper started to guide Spy out and around the side of the building to the grainery.

'Good,' Spy replied. He'd been aiming for flippant but it came out too flat and tired sounding for that. They'd barely made it out of the door before Spy began to flag. He had no choice but to lean against the Sniper. The contact made the back of his neck prickle. The last time they'd been in a similar position to this, Spy had ended up with a kukri sticking out of his chest. He'd died to the sound of the Sniper's low, husky laughter.

But now they were outside, Spy became more aware than ever that they were trapped on a battlefield. It was lean on Sniper, or collapse to the ground and wait for someone to find him. If it ended up being another RED, he doubted they'd be as merciful as the Sniper. And if it was one of the robots... well, better to lean on Sniper.

Not far. Not far to go.

 

Sniper felt Spy lean more and more on him as they went and he silently counted their steps until they were hidden away again. He got Spy inside and then had to push his shoulder hard into the door to get it to close. There was a ladder leading up to the second floor of the grainery and Sniper gave Spy a questioning look.

It didn’t seem likely that Spy would let him carry him. It also didn’t seem likely that Spy was going to be able to climb that.

At least the place was quiet, tucked a little ways away from the main battle, with a window up top. A lot of the wood was rotten and they’d have to be careful, but once they were up there they could pull the ladder up and be basically invisible to any enemies if they were still and quiet.

 

Well shit. He'd been expecting stairs. Proper stairs. Not a ladder.

For a moment, Spy considered doing a melodramatic, 'go on without me!' scene. Then the decided that actually, no, he'd rather not be left behind.

'Just let me... just let me get my breath back a moment. Just a moment,' he said. In reality it was more for fortifying himself for what he was about to do, than catching his breath.

'Should I go first?' he asked, thinking that maybe he should test the ladder out with his lighter weight before the Sniper tried climbing it. Though thinking about it, if something did give way, it would the Sniper, not him who'd be able to react quickly to it.

'Or maybe you should...' The Sniper might have to pull him up the last few rungs, after all.

 

'Just… don’t struggle, alright?' Sniper bent and grabbed Spy so the man was bent over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, his long legs held firmly under one of Sniper’s arms.

'What do you – ah!' Spy shut his eyes tight as the Sniper pulled him up and over his shoulders. He didn't dare open them again until the spinning sensation inside his head stopped. Spy muttered a long string of French insults, aimed both at the Sniper and at this new situation.

That was it. The Sniper was definitely only 'helping' him to try and make everything worse. What a day. What a day.

 

This would be the quickest and easiest way. Sniper didn’t want Spy fainting on the way up the ladder. If he fell and made a large noise, they’d have people or machines here in a moment and Sniper didn’t want to find out which they’d attract first.

With Spy over his shoulder he stepped up to the first rung of the ladder. It would be awkward, but he could definitely do it.

Spy instinctively grabbed for support as the Sniper stepped onto the ladder. One hand scrabbled against Sniper's belt, the other his hip. Definitely his hip. Spy let go immediately. Yes, he'd grabbed the enemy Sniper's hip. Definitely not his butt. Hopefully.

'Sorry,' he said, sounding rather sheepish.

This was it. Officially the most embarrassing day of Spy's life.

He spent the rest of the journey up the ladder silent, trying to ignore how ill the little jolts made him feel.

He knew they'd made it when the back of his head cracked against the edge of the trap door. 'Ouch!' Spy shut his mouth again immediately, worried that that might have been loud enough to attract the enemy.

'Sorry,' Sniper muttered, balancing carefully as he pushed the trapdoor open. He got his boots back on solid ground after thoroughly checking the wooden floor to make sure it hadn’t rotted through. He set Spy down slowly, pretending he hadn’t noticed Spy’s apology or the rather intimate grabbing. Once he was sure Spy wasn’t going to keel over, Sniper pulled up the ladder and closed the trapdoor.

The top of the grainery was fairly bare, mostly just wooden floors and dust, but there was a small window to look out of which Sniper had to admit was a perfect sniper perch.

'Be careful up here, some of the wood’s rotted. Might be possible to fall through.'

'Huh, as if I'm going to be wandering around here any time soon,' Spy muttered, his eyes half closed. He was tired and would love to just be able to rest until this whole stupid battle had blown over. Or possible, the war.

Spy looked even paler now than he had before. Sniper was glad they’d both had some water before they’d come up here to hide. He wasn’t sure how long Spy would need to recover.

Spy wondered if he could risk sleeping. He was tired enough to want to but it could be dangerous. After all, he was alone in a room with a man whose favourite hobby was probably shooting animals so he could make his own leather from their hides. Oh, and they were surrounded by murderous robots too.

He regretted that he hadn't kept hold of that bandana. Now the remaining blood was completely dry, Spy could feel how tacky and unpleasant it felt. Especially down his side. And it didn't help that his trousers were pretty blood-soaked.

Spy wondered if the Sniper would lend him his trousers too and chuckled quietly to himself at the thought.

 

Spy looked exhausted, his eyes were barely open. Sniper went to sit by the window, just out of sight of anyone outside. He let Spy find his own place to be comfortable, but he hoped the man would sleep. He seemed like he needed it. Pulling off his rifle, Sniper set her down next to himself, just in case their little hideout needed defending. It’d be safer not to call attention to them, but better safe than sorry.

Sniper pulled his hat down a little after a while and just listened to the goings on outside. Nothing was too close for comfort. Maybe he could rest.

 

Spy wanted to suggest that Sniper take the first watch, but looking at him, the RED seemed pretty exhausted too.

Spy missed their old, regularly scheduled battles. A full working day of murder every weekday, then weekends off. Rinse and repeat. It had been monotonous, but at least it had been reliable. These days they never knew when they'd be called up to defend Mann Co. It had been starting to hit BLU pretty hard, and it looked as though the REDs hadn't fared much better.

Really, if only they'd just been working together all this time, they could have organised things better. Shared the load instead of running themselves ragged, recklessly trying to kill off as many robots as possible, just get one up the other team.

'Five minutes,' Spy murmured. 'Just give me five minutes.'

He'd slept in dusty attics before. And in ditches and graveyards and under bridges.

No one on his team seemed to get that his obsession with fine suits, rare wines and expensive cigarettes wasn't because they were all part of the lifestyle he was used to. It was because they were luxuries that his younger-self had never even dared to dream of.

Spy's last thought before he drifted off was that he hoped the Sniper had pulled the ladder up. He didn't fancy finding out today if robots could climb.

Sniper wasn’t too worried about keeping watch. He was a light sleeper. He watched Spy curl up and drift off quickly. It wasn’t long before they were both asleep in the dusty grainery.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Sniper woke abruptly to the sound of a rocket exploding against the workshop directly in front of the grainery. He sat up and leaned away from the window for a little more cover, watching. It looked like one of the Soldiers had been down there but there was no sign of him now. Maybe he’d rocket jumped out of sight.

Spy was still asleep and Sniper felt an odd tightness in his chest as he watched the thin man curled up in his shirt. He looked remarkably human like this, something he never expected of the enemy Spy. Though his balaclava didn’t do much to obscure the shape of his face, seeing him without it was odd. There was still a paleness to his complexion and blood flaking away from his lips. It was strange, but he looked like something out of an old painting.

Sniper shook his head. What a ridiculous thought.

 

Spy came to a few minutes later with a muffled grumble. He had an awful crick in his neck. Spy reached up a hand to rub at it and then flinched when he came into contact with bare skin. Panic flickered through him. Oh god. His mask. He slapped a hand against his cheek. No mask. No mask. What the...?

Then he remembered. The RED Sniper had cut it away. Silly thing to do, now he thought about it. The blood had been sticking it to his face unpleasantly but he still could have peeled the whole thing off like he normally did at the end of a long day's fighting.

Wait. The RED Sniper. Spy glanced up. In his mind's eye he saw the Sniper looming over, kukri and sharp teeth bared. Instead he found the Sniper sitting by the window. He looked so strange somehow, without the RED shirt on. Red was the colour of danger. Without it, Spy wasn't sure how to class the Sniper. Friend or foe?

His outline was unmistakable though. The amount of times Spy had looked out for that lean figure in the wide-brimmed hat framed against a window... Every other time he'd seen Sniper like this, he'd practically taken it as an invitation…

 

As Spy stirred, Sniper turned and gave him a strained smile. 'Feel any better?'

He didn’t look much better, but the nap might have done him some good. Sniper slid from his perch to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. The sun was setting outside and the grainery was getting dark, the shadows getting long. It’d probably be safest if they spent the night in the grainery rather than sneaking around in the dark. The battlefield here wasn’t as familiar to Sniper as many of the others.

'Probably,' Spy replied. He felt groggy still, but by now he should be heading back towards normal health. Hopefully. He'd never gone as long after an injury like that without going through respawn or getting fixed up by the medigun. This was unknown territory.

He watched the Sniper slide down onto the floor. It was such a simple movement, but such a human one. It was so easy to think of all the REDs as just backs waiting to be stabbed. He lurked and watched them often, of course, waiting for the ideal moment to strike. And boy had he seen things he regretted during some of those times. But here was the Sniper, sinking down to the floor in a way that put him at a disadvantage, made him vulnerable, while he was well-aware that the enemy Spy was in the room with him.

Spy wondered how the Sniper would react if he closed the distance between them. Experimentally, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way unsteadily over to the window. Nope, definitely not back to normal yet.

Spy let the edge of his knee brush against the Sniper's shoulder as he looked out of the window. 'Nice sunset,' he commented, watching Sniper out of the corner of his eye.

Sniper looked up at him, tiredly. 'I guess so. You feelin’ any better?' He barely noticed the contact at first. Once he had, he wondered if it was on purpose. Was Spy trying to throw him off guard? Was he simply too weak to stand without support? He _was_ unsteady on his feet. Sniper put a solid hand on the man’s hip to lean against.

'You've already asked me that one,' Spy asked, eyebrows arched.

 

When a hand touched Spy's hips, his eyebrows furrowed. Well. That really, really wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. Spy had thought the Sniper would instinctively shy away, not reach out a hand to touch him. On his hip no less. Well that was rather forward of him. If the Sniper was going to touch him like this, he would have expected it to have been earlier on when he couldn't get away. But really, he–

No. Wait.

Hand flat. Arm braced. No groping, no grabbing, no other hand reaching up to touch him. No lewd comments.

The Sniper was just trying to support him. The realisation derailed Spy's train of thought entirely.

He'd been a little unsteady on his feet on the way over, hadn't he? No wonder the Sniper had asked him how he was feeling again. And in response to Spy trying to mess with him a little, the Sniper had offered him further support.

It was almost sweet, really.

'I'm fine, really, bushman,' he assured, pulling away slightly from the heat of the Sniper's broad hand. 'Just looking out for robots.'

He could see vague robotic shapes off in the distance, chrome glinting in the later evening light.

'They're out there still. A distance off, but still out there.'

'Ah, yeah,' the back of Sniper’s neck flushed and he dropped his hand when Spy moved away from him. His thoughts weren’t on the conversation and it showed. He sounded like an idiot. He pulled off his hat, playing with the brim of it. 'You just looked a little wobbly, is all.'

Turning to look out the window with Spy, Sniper could just make out the figures of enemies in the distance. His brain immediately began calculating trajectories and looking for vantage points but that wasn’t what was needed right now.

'Should we try to find our teams?' he suggested.

Spy sat down on the edge of the window sill, just out of sight of any robots that might look his way. He positioned himself so he was slightly off to the side of the Sniper, but still behind him. Spy's posture was disarming and casual but he was well aware of how close he was to the Sniper and his unprotected back. And if he was, Sniper would be doubly aware of it.

'Hmm,' Spy said, thinking the question over. His first instinct was a 'yes.' His second was a little more complicated. They still didn't know for sure what had happened yet. At least some of their teammates must have survived if the fighting they'd heard earlier was anything to go by. But if there was a chance that respawn was down, there could be a lot more of one team than the other out there. And if they found someone from the enemy team, what would there be to stop them from finishing him off once and for all?

Chances were that respawn was fine, but you didn't survive long as a spy without a paranoid streak.

Even if it was though, the bots were still out there. And then there was one other thing.

This was an unprecedented opportunity to get to know someone who he'd seen every working day for years, but never talked to. Well, not properly. Swearing, death threats and taunts did not count as polite conversation.

Spies were opportunists. Why throw away the chance to learn a little about the mysterious RED Sniper?

'As unpleasant a choice as it may seem, I think we are probably best off staying here for the night.' It wouldn't be a very comfortable night, but it could well be an interesting one. As long as the Sniper didn't decide to go and find somewhere else safe to stay as far away from him as possible. Spy was an introvert, but spending a lonely night up in this dusty attic all by himself sounded rather miserable.

'Will your teammates miss you?'

Spy's wouldn't, he was sure of that. And the last thing he needed was a RED rescue party finding him up here without any of his weapons. Would the Sniper try to defend him if that happened? Spy doubted it.

 

Sniper considered the question for a moment before shaking his head. His teammates were used to him being withdrawn and he didn’t often join them in celebrations or even at meals. The benefit and drawback to having a camper was that he didn’t have to be a part of the team except during battle, and even then he was rarely spotted by his own team except for that little red dot and exploding enemy heads.

'Nah, they’re used to me disappearing.' He was sure the same could be said of the BLU Spy. Spies weren’t usually the sort to be missed or chased after if they didn’t come back on time. 'We’ll see how things look in the morning.'

The grainery might not be the most comfortable place, but it was safe enough and Sniper had slept in worse places. He wished he had his shirt to lay down as a pillow, but he’d have to make do without. Suddenly, Sniper perked up, remembering that he’d brought some rations with him today, unsure of how late the battle would go or if he’d end up stuck in one of his sniper nests all day. He pulled out a small bundle of neatly tied butcher paper, unwrapping it and taking out a small piece of venison jerky.

'Hungry?' He turned so his back was no longer facing Spy, trying to make it seem like a natural movement, offering him the package. It put him on edge to have Spy behind him and he felt far more secure this way.

'Uh, thank you,' Spy said, hesitantly taking a piece. What even was this? He turned it over in his fingers and gave it a discreet sniff. Some kind of jerky. He took a small bite. It was smoky and chewy and not really Spy's kind of thing. He'd become spoilt when it came to food in recent years, but he still remembered what it was like to have nothing to eat at all, so he finished it off without complaint.

It made Spy wonder how long it had been since he'd last eaten something. He'd had breakfast, right? Spy couldn't quite remember. It wasn't good, skipping meals, he knew. But he had his cigarettes and his teammates were always so rowdy at mealtimes... And they always commented on how much or how little Spy ate, so he often found it easier to just skip meals. He really must work on that.

His thoughts drifted off down another path. There'd been something he'd been meaning to ask the Sniper for a while now, but he hadn't had the courage.

'Why would you help a BLU?' he asked at last. What he really meant was, 'why would you help me?' but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He didn't want to remind the Sniper of all the bad blood there was between them two of them.

 

When he saw Spy check out the jerky carefully, Sniper chuckled, chewing on another piece. 'It’s deer, help yourself.' He didn’t mention it, but Spy looked very thin and he could surely use a bit of food.

'We’re kinda working together now, aren’t we?' Sniper said, around a mouthful of jerky. 'We should stick together. The two teams, I mean. Everything’s kinda gone to hell.' He gave Spy a sidelong look. 'Would you have helped me?' He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

 

Spy cringed internally when Sniper asked that. He was glad he'd just taken a bite out of another piece of jerky. Unlike the Sniper he wasn't about to talk while his mouth was full, so it bought him some time.

'Depends,' he said carefully. 'If respawn was down, I'm sure I would. If it wasn't... well, I was in a hurry to find my teammates when the bomb went off. I would probably continue on with that.' It was the best answer he had to give.

Yes, Sniper was right, the two teams should be sticking together. And yes, the world had gone to hell. It wasn't something Spy had really thought about properly until now. He know, well, hoped, that if the opportunity for him to ever help a RED like this occurred, he'd take it. Not that they'd trust him an inch or be at all grateful for it, he was sure.

That was about the answer Sniper had expected. The two teams and especially him and Spy, were not meant to get along.

To change the subject quickly, Spy asked, 'Did you make this jerky yourself?' It seemed like a bushman kind of thing to do.

'Yeah, I did. Our supply trains stopped awhile ago so I’ve been hunting for food rather than living off canned food,' Sniper shrugged. 'Like it?'

He had to admit, he was a little surprised Spy had eaten any.

 

Spy's eyes widened a fraction at the news about the supply trains. So it wasn't just BLU? There'd been talk amongst his team that the REDs must have been sabotaging their supplies, stopping them coming through in an attempt to cripple BLU for some nefarious reason.

Spy's first instinct was to keep quiet or pretend that their supply lines were fine, to hide a weakness. Then he thought it over again. Keeping secrets came naturally to him, revealing them did not.

'Our supply trains have been a little... patchy too,' he admitted. Another excuse to skip meals with his team. 'It's been years since I last had jerky. I've always found it a bit of an an acquired taste, really,' Spy said diplomatically. That didn't stop him from taking another piece though, feeling a little mischievous as he did so. The movement made a couple of stray strands of hair fall forward over his forehead. It felt very odd, feeling his hair move around. He smoothed it back. Spy had almost forgotten he didn't have his mask on. Worry fluttered in his stomach again. It probably would every time he thought about his lack of a mask.

 

'Doesn’t surprise me that you’re not used to eating jerky,' Sniper smiled a little, tearing a small piece off with his teeth and chewing it. 'It’s not exactly fancy, or French.'

Watching Spy with his mask off was odd, it was like they were no longer the same people who had fought all those years. They were suddenly strangers who could be kind to each other. Or at least, tolerable to each other. He knew they knew each other oddly well. He knew a lot about some of Spy’s habits. A well placed jarate could keep the man away, but he could climb and crawl just as well as Sniper, get into places where Sniper was sure he’d be safe to shoot at BLUs. They had a healthy respect for each other, he’d say, even if they taunted each other often.

 

'Tell me, has your Soldier been blaming the lack of supply trains on a mass robot conspiracy?’ Spy asked. ‘Because ours is obsessed with the idea.'

'Yeah, ours has been dressing up like a robot. Haven’t seen him in a couple days, they mighta caught him at it,' Sniper shook his head. He kept his distance from Soldier.

'Dressing up as a robot? Really now?' Well, you do get people who are into some... strange things,' Spy joked. He was just about to turn the question around again and coyly ask the Sniper what _he_ was into, when he thought the better of it. The thing with Spy was that his method of getting to know people was to push at their boundaries first, to find out what really got under their skin, just so he could see what made them tick and what made them uncomfortable. With someone he was interested in, he could usually manage to do so in a careful, albeit slightly suggestive way. Mostly using innocent little comments that he could assure the other person that they were just taking them the wrong way if things didn't work out.

But the RED Sniper... Spy had no idea how to talk to this man. It was very difficult to stop himself from making the cheeky little remarks that kept popping into his head now that it was clear that the Sniper wasn't going to murder him on the spot. Spy was well aware it was all part of his own self-defense mechanism though, and that it was just threatening to come out because he was feeling uncomfortable himself. Besides, if he did make any of those kinds of comments, he was sure that the Sniper's kukri wouldn't be far away.

 

'I don’t think it’s uh,' Sniper laughed, 'y’know.' But you did really never know with the Soldier, he was difficult to predict. He was far less painful to live with than Sniper had expected, but he was loud and hard-headed. Still, he did care for the team and always seemed to want them to be happy, in his way.

Spy fished around for something to say to take his mind off of dangerous territory. 'What was the BLU Spy before me like?' he asked.

He'd been working with this particular team for around two years now, but the Sniper had already been here when he arrived. The BLU team had made vague remarks about how 'our last Spy wouldn't do/say that' but no one had ever really told him what his predecessor had actually been like, and he'd always been too proud to ask.

Sniper glanced at Spy, a little surprised. 'You didn’t read up on him?' He would have figured Spy for the type to know everything about the previous man who did his job.

 

Of course Spy had read up on his predecessor. Italian, not French. Fifty years old when he'd retired. Divorced, no children. Good early education but no degrees. Needed reading glasses. What little information hadn't been redacted had been very dull and given him so real sense of them man.

 

Sniper considered how to describe the last enemy Spy, scratching the rough stubble of his jaw. 'He was–' Sniper stopped suddenly. How could he phrase this so Spy wouldn’t take it as an insult? The other Spy didn’t taunt, Sniper had only ever heard him speak once or twice. 'He was quieter?'

No, shit, that was no good either, Spy would take that as a sign that Sniper thought the previous Spy was better at his job - sneakier and all that. 'I mean, he didn’t talk to me.'

 

Spy wasn't offended by Sniper's remark. Instead it amused him enough for him to let out a bark of laughter. 'Quieter you say? And I thought I could be very quiet! But that makes sense; our Soldier's told me off several times for 'fraternising with the enemy,' when he's overheard us swearing at each other. He's always told me, 'our old Spy would never do a thing like that!' but I've never actually got what he was talking about until now!'

It was funny, how vulnerable he felt admitting even such a tiny detail of his and his team's lives like this. Instinctively he reached for a cigarette, as a comforter, something to do with his hands, and as a way of creating a barrier between him and the Sniper, however small. But there was nothing there, just as he had no mask, no weapons, no disguise kit.

He'd almost forgotten he was still wearing the Sniper's shirt.

'Uh, do you want this back?' he asked.

Spy didn't want to be anymore of a burden to the Sniper, he realised. The RED had saved his life, carried him to safety, patched him up, offered him food and water and even given him the shirt off his back. He already owed the Sniper so much. He owed the enemy. It was not a comfortable thought. And it wasn't good for his pride either.

 

Sniper couldn’t help but smile, relieved, when Spy laughed. No matter how silly he’d thought the balaclava was when he first got here, it really did make Spy seem well, inhuman. He wore a suit into battle as if he felt no discomfort of heat in the desert, and when it was stained with blood he complained only of the dry cleaning. He was wicked and cruel and clever and it had always felt as though he wasn’t a real person beneath the mask.

It was odd seeing him like this; thin, blood stained, face bare, reaching for a cigarette he didn’t have. That motion was familiar to Sniper, not only for himself but from watching Spy reach into his jacket for his cigarette case.

Sniper suddenly had his own, powerful craving for a smoke. He never carried cigarettes into battle. There was no point tempting himself to smoke and give away his position with the red cherry of the cigarette or the strong smell of tobacco. He’d blown Spy’s head off more times than he could count merely because he’d caught sight of his cigarette’s glow in the dim light.

'Nah, you can keep it. It might get pretty cold overnight.'

'Good point,' Spy replied. That was the problem with fighting in what was practically a desert. During the day, it was sweltering. In Spy’s opinion, whoever had the bright idea that his class should fight in a balaclava and three-piece suit should be shot. Half the battle for Spy wasn't against the enemy, it was against heat exhaustion. That was why he favoured using a Cloak and Dagger watch. When he started to get light-headed and blurry-eyed he could retreat into one of the relatively cool buildings to recover, and as long as he stayed still, no one would be able to see him.

There'd been plenty of times when he'd been recovering in a corner, only for the RED Sniper to walk past him while searching for a new sniping spot. The RED had no idea how many of his deaths were down to Spy dragging himself to his feet to go after the nearest target just because he didn't have the energy to chase after anybody else. Of course, those encounters didn't always work out well for him. Trying to fight when you're severely dehydrated and tired and haven't bothered eating that day was not the best idea.

So days out in the desert could be miserably hot, but when night fell, so would the temperature.

'Yes, I suspect we're in for a cold night.' Then, before he could stop himself, 'We'll just have to huddle together for warmth.' It started off with Spy's eyebrows raised mockingly and a clear joking tone to his voice, but by the end of the sentence he lost his confidence and it fell flat, Spy's brain shouting at him, _oh shit, no! Why did we say that? Abort, abort!_

He searched around for a way to save it. 'Like penguins,' he added. Like penguins. He'd just said, ' _like penguins_.'

Damn, he needed a cigarette.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sniper tipped his head back and laughed. 'Surprised you know anything about penguins. But most animals that live in groups in a cold place stay together for warmth.' It seemed like Spy had started to say that sarcastically but his expression had fallen. Maybe he was afraid he actually _would_ have to cuddle up close for the night.

Of course Spy knew things about penguins! They were fascinating birds. Everyone thought so, right? There was nothing wrong with a spy liking penguins. Everyone likes penguins.

'Ever seen penguins before?' Sniper tried to change the subject for Spy, to keep the any uncomfortable silences down to a minimum. He was used to being in silence, even with other people, but there was already some odd awkwardness between him and Spy. It’d be easier to keep things friendly if they could just talk, even about nothing.

'Well of course I've seen a penguin before!' Spy said. Admittedly though, only in zoos. And there was nothing wrong with a spy going for a day out at the zoo. Everyone likes zoos.

Spy pulled Sniper's shirt closer around his shoulders as a cold gust swept in through a gap in the window. He hadn't buttoned the shirt up, that felt too...presumptuous? Like he was accepting the shirt too easily and acting like it was natural for him to be wearing it.

His huddling up comment had been a joke, but when he took a moment to think about it, sharing body heat might be a necessity tonight. They might actually have to do their best penguin impersonations.

He wasn't going to be the first person to bring the suggestion back up again though. Hopefully.

'You didn't bring any water up with you, did you?' Spy asked. He wished he'd grabbed those glasses back in the workshop now, and brought that damn bandana with him. He was having to resort to scratching dry flakes of blood away.

'Nah, I wasn’t sure I could climb a ladder carrying you and a cup of water,' Sniper sounded almost teasing. 'I can go get some now, if you want,' he offered, standing. He wished he’d brought a canteen he could have filled.

He had planned on telling Spy about the fairy penguins that you could see living wild on Australia’s coast, but the Frenchman seemed embarrassed that he’d even brought up the birds.

Had that been a hint at a...sense of humour? Spy must still be more dehydrated than he realised; there was no way that the RED Sniper could have a sense of humour. That just wasn't right.

'That...would be appreciated,' Spy admitted when Sniper made the offer to fetch him some water. He would rather go himself but he suddenly had the image of himself getting halfway down the ladder before swooning dramatically (and pathetically) into the Sniper's arms. Spy was feeling a lot better now, but he would rather swallow his pride and accept a little more help from Sniper than try and prove that he was perfectly fine now thank you very much, and end up needing a lot more of it.

'Alright, stay quiet,' Sniper slid the ladder back down and climbed down to the main floor of the grainery. He had a momentary pause when he was at the base of the ladder, looking back up at the dark safety of their little hideout. It wouldn’t be hard for Spy to pull the ladder back up and make it impossible for him to get back into the attic.

No. He had to trust that Spy would continue to be his ally. That was all he could do.

It didn’t take Sniper long to get back to the sink and fill the cup they’d left there with water, wetting the bandana Spy had left behind. He drank his fill first, before refilling it, knowing it would be difficult to carry more than one cup and Spy ought to have a full glass if he could keep it down.

Hesitating for a moment, he listened for robots before heading back. They were still far enough away that he felt safe.

One minute and thirty seconds passed before Spy started worrying. This was it, wasn't it? The Sniper had upped and left him. Abandoned him. He'd grown tired of Spy's awful company and decided that he was just going to risk it and go back to his base. Leaving Spy alone. Up here in the dark. In the cold. All night.

Spy hated being left alone. He'd happily seek out solitude when he needed it- and with eight other rowdy mercs on his team, he needed it often-but he hated people abandoning him. It had happened to him so often.

'Stay here, kid, stay quiet.' A man’s voice. His father? Things were too muddled back then, too many people coming or going for him to know for sure. Someone he thought loved him anyway. Someone he'd trusted.

That had been in an attic too, but in a house. He remembered the musty, dusty smell. The tattered, sun-bleached curtains with their repeating flower pattern. The trunk in the corner. The piles of newspapers. The cobwebs across the beams.

The man had never come back for him. No one had. How long had he stayed up there all alone, perfectly silent?

Hours?

Days?

He couldn't remember.

And now the Sniper had abandoned him too.

 

After another few minutes, Spy heard Sniper’s boots on the floor, then the ladder. The man’s hat appeared first, and then he put the awkward-to-hold full cup of water on the floor, getting off the ladder and pulling it up after himself.

He'd come back. The Sniper had come back. Of course. Of course he'd come back. He always was going to. Spy had known that. Hadn't he?

Spy looked paler than he had before, Sniper thought. Once the ladder was dealt with, he handed Spy the water and waited for him to finish, the wet bandana in his hands for Spy to be ready for it. Spy seemed like he ought to be better, he certainly wasn’t bleeding anymore and he hadn’t been moving about. Why did he look like he’d seen a ghost?

 

'Thank you,' Spy said gratefully, taking the cup. Only one. He was thirsty but made sure not to drain the whole thing. Sniper might want some too, or Spy might want it later. Better to be safe than sorry.

'Thought for a minute you weren't coming back,' Spy admitted. Again, he'd aimed for a jokey tone but he stumbled over the words, ruining the effect.

To cover up his slip he accepted the bandana with another, 'Thank you.'

He stared down at it in his hands, feeling at a loss.

Sniper had come back.

Despite all the awful things he'd said to the man. Despite all the awful things he'd done. Despite all the bad blood between them.

The RED Sniper had come back.

Sniper sank down against the wall and stretched out his long legs with a groan. Spy was just holding the bandana and staring at it. Was he in shock? That was new. He’d never expected this from someone who could backstab someone and laugh.

Gently, Sniper took the damp bandana and began to wipe away the dried brown flakes of blood wherever he saw them. Hopefully Spy wouldn’t take offense at him being forward like this, but it had to be uncomfortable. It reminded Sniper of the first few battles with Scout. He’d talked a big game but had frozen up several times. Still, it was expected with someone like Scout; he was young and inexperienced. Spy was neither of those things.

Spy let the Sniper take the bandana off him, then froze, not moving, not breathing, while the Sniper ran it across his forehead and along his jaw. He hissed in a breath when it touched his neck, the sensation dragging him back to reality. With fumbling fingers he tugged the bandana out the Sniper's grip, ignoring the way his cold hand brushed against the Sniper's warm one.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'I can do this myself. I'm not some invalid.' Spy was trying to convince himself of that as much as the Sniper. The comment came out snappy and flustered and Spy hated it. He was a professional spy. He should be acting professionally. And that included being polite to the enemy. Even if that one hadn't always featured that highly on his list of priorities when it came to his interactions with the RED Sniper.

Not looking at the Sniper, he turned away and pulled the shirt free from his side to clean away the worst of what blood there was left. There was still some stuck to his leg, he could feel it, but he wasn't about to shove the Sniper's bandana down his trousers. That would just be taking liberties, that would.

'I know.' Sniper wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize or not. Why was this so difficult?

He turned to keep watch out the window while Spy cleaned himself up. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. It didn’t help that Sniper felt like he had very little experience with people and Spy was, well, particular. At least, Sniper thought so. Most people had different standards to Sniper, but Spy seemed to be on the other end of the spectrum.

There was nothing to see out the window but Sniper kept up the illusion anyway. The sky was almost black now and it was quiet outside, quiet enough to hear coyotes in the distance. Thankfully the robots were not quiet, and in the dark their eyes would be a dead giveaway. He wasn’t worried about their safety… at least not from the robots. He might have to keep an eye out for Spy.

 

It was getting late. Spy stifled a yawn. He was tired. He always seemed to be tired these days. 'Do you think we'll be fighting again tomorrow?' He couldn't tell if the other mercs had wiped out enough of the bots for them to need a few days to amass again, or if there was a carrier looming off in the horizon, waiting to pour out a new batch tomorrow morning.

That's what he hated about fighting the robots. You never knew if you were in for one wave, two, five, or none at all. It kept him and the BLUs on edge at all times. There were never guaranteed any downtime anymore. Spy wondered if it was the same for the REDs. Must be.

'Want me to keep watch while you sleep?' Sniper asked, voice soft. He wasn’t sure Spy would be able to sleep with someone else there now that he was feeling a bit better, but he also had never expected to see the man’s unmasked face either. Today was just full of surprises.

He was tired, but it was hard to want to sleep on a battleground. His feet ached, his head hurt where his sunglasses dug into the bridge of his nose and just behind his ears, his knuckles and palms were scraped and bloodied. The two bruises he carried most often -the rifle-kick bruise against his shoulder and the bruised thumbnail from his rifle’s breech bolt had gone from a steady ache to a throb.

Taking off his sunglasses and tucking them onto the band of his hat, Sniper rubbed his eyes and temples briefly.

 

Sleep. That sounded nice. Spy was tempted to take the offer. It had better be a short shift though, considering that the Sniper didn't look much better. He hadn't even realised until now. Hadn't given the Sniper's current well-being a moment's thought.

This was one of the first times he'd ever seen the Sniper without his glasses. Spy had made a game of trying to knock them off his face in the past, just to annoy him really. Now he could see the shadows under the Sniper's eyes.

'You know, I think we can risk not having someone on watch. We already know no one is going to come looking for us, and the robots are gone. Even if they come back, we are well hidden and hard to get to. Besides, I'm a light sleeper. If there's any movement in the room below it's likely to wake me up.'

 

Sniper nodded, propping himself up against the wall by the window and putting his hat and rifle down on the floor next to himself. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes. His skin prickled a bit with paranoia -closing his eyes around a Spy was certainly new- but he was exhausted. He knew he could sleep.

Spy looked around the attic. For some of reason it didn't come with a nice, convenient bed. Just hard, dusty wooden boards. He leant back against the same wall as the Sniper but a little further along. He pulled the Sniper's shirt closer around himself. It really was cold now. Spy knew he'd be able to fall asleep, but he also knew from experience that he'd keep on waking up throughout the night and that tomorrow morning he'd be horrible stiff and achy from sleeping like this.

He fell asleep worrying about it. As predicted he woke up several times. He checked on the Sniper when he did. Though he wasn't sure what he was looking out for anymore. Certainly not him looming over a sleeping Spy, kukri drawn. Not anymore.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

An explosion woke Spy again at seven in the morning. There was a crash and a grunt and a call of, 'Found the Frenchy!'

'Seriously? About time. Hey, Heavy, boost me up would yah?'

Spy blinked his eyes open to find a triumphant Soldier standing over the trapdoor, rocket launcher in his hands. The Scout scrabbled up through it a moment later. He noticed what the Soldier had not.

'Holy shit! A RED!'

Sniper had woken with the explosion same as Spy, and as soon as he heard the voices, he grabbed his rifle. There was no other way out but the trap door unless he wanted to jump out the window; he was effectively trapped. However, only one man could come through at once, and if he was quick enough reloading he might make it… if they didn’t have their Medic with them.

Sniper glanced at Spy, rifle aimed squarely at Scout. What was going to happen to this tentative truce of theirs? Would it disappear now that Spy was safely with his team again, or would it begin to change how the teams fought each other as well as the robots?

 

Scout stared wide-eyed at the rifle aimed straight at his head. Soldier swung his rocket launcher around to face the Sniper, ready to blast the RED's remains across the wall behind him.

'Stop!' Spy snapped as he scrambled to his feet, his voice croaky from sleep. He cleared his throat and then repeated firmly, 'Stop.'

'But...' the Soldier said, his brows furrowing and his rocket launcher swinging back around to face Spy. 'He's a RED!'

'Yes. Don't shoot him.'

'But..'

'I said _no_ , Soldier.' Spy stood in front of him, straight-backed and chin-raised, glaring straight at him. Spy knew from past disagreements with the Soldier that the best way to get him to see things from your point of view was to put on the persona of a commanding officer and tell him exactly what he should be doing and what he should be thinking. For some reason he responded well to that kind of bullshit.

'And how do I know you're not a spy?'

'Soldier, you know I'm a spy. I'm your spy.'

'How do I know you aren't a RED in a half-assed disguise?'

'Because I know the codeword.'

'Yeah? What is it then?'

'Manifest destiny.'

The Scout looked confused. And rightly so. They didn't have a password. The phrase sounded passwordy though, and it was about America. The Soldier accepted it with a happy nod.

'Uh, Spy? Why are you wearing a RED Shirt? Well, kind of wearing one?' Scout asked.

Spy couldn't decide if he should pull the shirt together at the front or cast it off altogether. In the end he did neither.

He wasn't sure how to explain.

'What is happening?' Heavy called from downstairs. 'Shoot the RED and rescue little Spy!'

 

Sniper decided it would be best if he didn’t speak up until Spy had everyone on his side. He didn’t want to startle anyone into shooting. Slowly, he lowered his rifle, making a show of slinging her over his shoulder on her strap. He grabbed his hat and sunglasses, still moving carefully.

Looking up at Spy, he wondered if his team had ever seen his naked face like this before. Was he the first to have seen him this way? How strange. It must be weird for them to see Spy wearing just his shirt too. Sniper was almost surprised they’d recognized him in RED.

'No. Don't shoot the Sniper.'

The Soldier made an annoyed grumbling sound in the back of his throat.

'Actually, yeah, what is going on?' Scout asked. 'Because you were missing all night and now we find you hanging out with the enemy Sniper and wearing his clothes? Like, shit, man, that's weird. And where's your mask? I haven't seen your ugly mug since Engie's birthday party. You know, the one where he dragged us to that hick karaoke place and you got really drunk and there was that pole and-'

'Yes, Scout,' Spy said through gritted teeth. 'I remember.'

 

Sniper couldn’t help the little grin spreading across his face. Spy getting sloppy drunk with his team? That was too good not to picture.

'You've been sleeping with the enemy!' the Soldier blurted out.

'No. No I haven't.'

'Oh, so you've been sleeping in shifts instead? Very sensible. Also, why is that RED still alive?'

'Because he was helping me.' Spy's mind raced as he tried to find a way of explaining what had happened while still preserving some ounce of his dignity. 'I got caught up in a blast near the end of the match. As we BLUs and REDs are supposed to be working together in this, he helped get me back on my feet. I lost my shirt and mask due to the explosion. We found ourselves separated from both our teams and with only one weapon between us. As we didn't know the state of respawn, we thought it best to wait things out into the morning. And here we are.'

 

Spy had come up with a great half-lie as to why they were taking care of each other. Sniper was grateful that Spy was doing his part to protect him from the BLUs. And his explanation also made him sound a little less pathetic than he really had been.

'Have you seen any of my team?' Sniper asked them. He hadn’t seen anyone since the blast.

'Respawn's fine, you idiot,' the Scout said to Spy. He turned his eyes to the Sniper and then away again. 'Urm. Kind of,' he admitted. 'Our Sniper said he saw your Spy approaching our base last night and, uh, Sniper kind of shot him.' He ended with an apologetic little shrug, still not looking directly at the RED Sniper.

 

It occurred to Spy that the only conversations Scout must have ever had with the RED team would have been shouted swear words. He'd never had to try and talk with one civilly and it was obviously making him uncomfortable. Good. Spy liked seeing the Scout uncomfortable. It helped deflate the boy's massive ego just a little.

'I still don't get it,' the Soldier said. ‘Why is the RED still alive?’

Spy gritted his teeth in annoyance. 'Because he's our ally. We were instructed to work together to take down the robots. We haven't been and that's a mistake. 'Divided we fall' and all that. We'd do much better against those robots if we coordinated our attacks.'

'Blasphemy!' the Soldier gasped.

'We're doing fine on our own,' the Scout said.

'Yes,' Spy agreed, though privately he wasn't so sure. 'But we could do better.'

'I dunno, man, bet the others wouldn't agree.'

'Sounds good idea to me,' the Heavy called from downstairs. 'Now, please come down.'

'Uh, oh yeah,' the Scout said.

‘Help me with this ladder, will you, Sniper?’ Spy asked casually, wanting to prove that REDs and BLUs could work together now he'd accidentally made himself spokesman for the idea.

'Uh, yeah,' Sniper stood, grabbing one side of the ladder with Spy. It had been odd working with his enemy before, but now with more of them it was even more awkward. Still, he was glad Spy hadn’t just abandoned their truce at the first sign of his teammates.

They slid the ladder down and Sniper hesitated. He didn’t want to go down there with their Heavy, but he didn’t want to be stuck with the Soldier and Scout either. Heavy seemed to be the safer option, so he swung down onto the ladder and started climbing, keeping an eye on Spy as he descended, watching to make sure the man wasn’t going to fall.

 

Heavy watched the Sniper suspiciously for a moment before nodding to him. It was his equivalent of telling Sniper that he would accept and respect this truce.

Sniper nodded back to the big man. It was pretty rare that he’d been killed by Heavy, usually being pretty far out of the way, but he’d shot the man through the head countless times. Not to mention shooting his Medic.

Spy came down next, well-aware of how uncomfortable Sniper would be alone with a BLU. A BLU other than him, that was. How odd that was to think about.

Scout followed next, with Soldier bringing up the rear. Spy lead them out of the building so the Sniper wouldn't be forced to stand around in an enclosed environment with four members of the enemy team.

'Right then. We had better go our separate ways,' he said with a business-like tone. He'd managed to help keep the peace so far but it was probably best to separate as soon as possible.

Spy tried to decide if it would be more awkward to appear back at base with a RED shirt on or none at all. (And without his mask, _christ_.) He decided to give it back and then go and search for his disguise kit before heading off. It had to be in the next building along with the remains of his jacket.

'Thank you for lending me this,' Spy said, pulling off the shirt and folding it neatly, before handing it back again.

 

Spy seemed to do fine on the ladder and Sniper’s worry faded. The Frenchman must have recovered most of his energy over the night. That or he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his teammates. Maybe that was more likely, Sniper thought, watching the Scout and Soldier carefully as they came down, following Spy outside.

'We should get both teams together to talk,' Sniper suggested. 'keep the truce until things are back to normal.'

'Yes,' Spy agreed, secretly thinking about what a nightmare that would be. He planned on going through with it all the same though. Nothing would ever change if they didn't push it to. Things would likely be rocky to start with as members of both teams trying to resist but it would be worth it in the end.

'And I trust that if you see me approaching your base tomorrow morning you won't have the same reaction as our Sniper did to seeing your Spy?' he asked. This time the undercurrent of good humour he was aiming for came through just fine. The idea of walking into the RED base uncloaked made Spy nervous but he knew it would be the best way to kick-start the truce between teams that both of them needed, whether they accepted that fact or not.

 

“I’ll make sure no one’s got a loaded weapon,” Sniper chuckled.

It really would be strange, working with the BLUs, but it was for the best. Together they could do so much more. Sniper gave the others a nod before heading off in the direction of the RED camps.

He had a lot to tell them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we end! This was our first, short RP to see if we thought we'd work well together as RP partners. It mustn't have gone too bad because we've been RPing ever since. I hope we'll be able to start sharing that story with you guys some time soon but it's still a WIP at the moment, and many _many_ times longer than this one. Like boy, that thing's a monster. And it's about monsters, of sorts.


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